Roses in the Dark
by ariella macallister
Summary: (oneshot) Welcome to the realm of the slightly insane trapped within Azkaban Prison. One misjudged occupant learns a long lesson from an unexpected darkness without realizing what he's missing.


Roses in the Dark

Disclaimer: don't own it, only the idear.

She'd been there for two years. She'd spent two more years in Hell on Earth than he had. How she'd kept her sanity was beyond him. His slipped further and further away every day. And so young, younger than him, that much he had guessed. When you were in Azkaban for more than ten years, age seemed to become a senseless thing that he learned eventually.

He'd raged for the first week, she merely laughed quietly to herself. A rich sound that seemed distant, but so close he could feel it. He had no idea what she looked like, no idea what kind of torture had been inflicted upon her, but he knew her. Not much else was to be done when spending your life in the darkness of a prison cell. You talked. You talked to yourself, to anybody who would listen, even if they weren't completely sane. Then again, to wind up in Azkaban meant there was something wrong with you in the first place. _Not with me._ He kept telling himself.

Two months into this hellhole and he already wanted to die. "You get used to it." She said. He scoffed.

"Used to it?" He asked incredulously. "How could you ever get used to it?" He demanded, furiously raking a rough hand through his long dark locks. If he could see her, he would have seen her shrug, but he took her silence for the answer. He stopped pacing, the only other thing to do in a prison cell. Pace, talk and sleep. Nothing else was allowed, though Sirius always seemed to manage the Daily Prophet now and then. He would read it to her and she would only sigh.

"What got you in here anyways?" She asked, Irish accent evident in her slow speech. She always talked slow, something that both infuriated and intrigued Sirius. Sometimes he wanted quick answers to his heated speeches and other times it made him think.

"I was framed." He answered indignantly. "Stupid rat went and blew up a street, cut off his finger and ran." Just talking about it made Sirius' blood boil. But since talking was one of three things to do, he kept at it. She was an excellent listener, something he didn't realize until much later. "We showed him the ropes, beat up anybody that picked on him and he betrayed us." He snarled and began pacing again. Unwanted tears sprang into his eyes and since she couldn't see them, he let them fall silently. "Set himself with that _thing_." Sirius spat. He never referred to Voldermort by name. Not out of fear but out of rage. He was the cause of all of this. The bloody bastard would pay and so would the goddamn rat. When he got his hands, or his fangs, on that irksome rat, he would pay dearly.

"They thought they were so clever." He mumbled, unaware that she could still hear him. "It was my fault." He stuttered, choking on the tears that were already falling. Finally he collapsed on the thing _they _provided as a bed. A grown man crying, James would have never had let him live it down. But James was gone. And Lily, nothing so lovely deserved what she got. And Harry, thankfully Harry had survived; by some token of the gods, he'd survived. The only hope he had in this godforsaken place. The only conscious one anyway. His subconscious told him something different, but he was too mad to pay it any mind.

His eyes became heavy, heavy from the thoughts that would plague him for the rest of his sentence. _I will get out_. He promised himself as she started to sing. But this too, he was unaware of. He never really realized she sang a sad lullaby that rocked him to sleep. "I'll set this right." He mumbled, half-asleep.

In her dark cell, she smiled. From what she gathered by the first few weeks together, he would be the first to do it.

A year passed, two maybe. Time became an illusion of the past. He'd begun planning. Planning his escape, for what else, he was unsure. But he knew he'd get out. Perhaps a third tiny hope he'd found in his own personal hell. He kept talking and every now and they she'd talk back. Most of the time, it was him who talked. But he'd learned about her. Though he didn't know the basics. Her name, her crime, her story, all if it was a mystery she preferred to keep to herself. Yet he never bothered to ask. Whether it was out of ignorance or self-absorption was a question that rocked his mind long after he escaped.

He'd tell stories. Stories of happier times, of times he'd forgotten until now. "They were perfect together." He smiled a grim smile. "Though getting them to admit that was a task many years in the making." Talking of James and Lily always made him feel them. Somehow it brought them back, as if the more he talked about them, the more likely it is they would return. "James was such a prat." Sirius laughed to himself, allowing himself the simple pleasure of it. "Lily was perfect, Head Girl, smart to boot." He rambled. "If James hadn't taken her, I would have tried my hardest." He grinned in an arrogant manner. "But they were destined, for each other, for Harry." He stopped.

"I've told you about Harry right?" He questioned, pride swelling his heart just a little.

"No, tell me." She whispered. She always whispered, except when she sang. He couldn't tell if it was out of weakness or out of insanity, but it always made him think. But he was too caught up in his stories to ask.

"Handsome young lad he'll be, breaking all the ladies' hearts at Hogwarts, I'll wager." Sirius shook his head. "If he takes after his father that is, and me. He's my godson you know, I should be with him now." His voice dropped to a whisper softer than hers. "Without James and Lily I should be raising him. I don't even know where he is." A thought that struck him often and caused him nothing but sleepless nights. His only hope was that he was with Remus. The last of them. But no, not with Remus and his condition. Perhaps Dumbledore had him, that would be the best place for him. As long as he was safe, it gave Sirius piece of mind. A little more sanity in this world of the deranged.

"I'll wager you're right." She whispered after a while. As a long silence consumed them Sirius nodded off, dreaming of sunlight, blue skies and green grass.

Meanwhile she sat back and listened to his soft breathing. Any sound in this pit was a little reminder of the outside world. She stared at her thin hands and rammed one into the wall with a satisfying crack. Her long reddish blonde hair was tied back with a strip of her raggedy blanket. Her blanket was the only thing she coveted here. The only other things were his stories. The warmth they provided her made her feel almost alive again. She was always cold; it was a consistent reminder of how her life had slid into a mystic abyss of nothing.

She'd become and empty shell in her own mind. She could see his stories play out as he told them. He had a voice that just echoed deep inside her, leaving her wanting more. She hardly interrupted and only answered when asked a direct question. She left the rhetorical questions for him to ponder. It wasn't for her to answer and she knew that. She began to sing softly to herself. The only other pleasure she allowed herself. She sang because she knew on some subconscious level, it helped him. She knew he was unaware of the terrible nightmares that had him screaming aloud. When sleep wouldn't claim her, she sang and he slept more peacefully. She knew he would need all of the sleep he could get. A whisper in the stale air told her he would get out. Get out beyond this prison of mind and body and be free. So she sang, the only way she could possibly help him.

It must have been years, how many, they could only guess by the newspapers. Murmurs of an unknown darkness were rising somewhere in the east. The Dementors were buzzing. Not that they showed any emotion, only that somewhere deep inside their beings, an excitement grew, unbeknownst to any around them. Only she could feel them as her forearm burned from the mark inscribed there. Her real prison, the inescapable one. This was nothing compared to that Hell. Hell itself would be a reprise from the torture inflicted from this simple mark. It was her only shame in this place. The way he talked, she hated herself for it. Her former master had caused all of his pain and now she too hated him for it. Hated herself for it more.

She was once a young fool. Pureblood families getting caught up in the revolution and purifying the Wizarding World of all of the unworthy. She hated it. Hated her parents. Her master. Everything that came with it. At times she thought about slicing right through that mark that haunted her, but then where would she be? Without him, that's where she'd be. When the Dementors walked by it always left her shaking and pale. She reminded herself that it was a mere tickle compared to Voldemort's tortures. She was sure Sirius fared much better. He was stronger, more pure of heart.

But sometimes that made it worse. The Dementors left him huddled in the corner, a distant fear rushing toward him all at once. He knew the time was coming. As a dog, he was almost thin enough to get through. Though when the time came, it would be a swift motion. He'd do it and never look back. Visitors came and went Sirius playing the insane fool, begging for the paper. It made her laugh, but they thought her to be mad as well. Nothing was thought of it.

He told her, only when they both knew it was safe. His plans were starting into motion. "I've found him, he's at Hogwarts." It was his mantra for the last few weeks of his imprisonment. He knew where the betrayer was and now he would finally get him. Her heart fluttered with happiness for him. And longed for him to be free. However part of her would always nag, saying she'd finally lose it when he left. But she never voiced it, didn't want anything to ruin his plans.

Sirius knew the time was drawing near. After all that time, it was almost here. The next few days would be key. He'd get out all right and finally be free. When he settled down into his bed that night, he heard her sing. A sad song that she'd never sung before. And realization fell on him like a wave crashed on the beach. Where would she be after all of this? Thirteen years of torment he'd be leaving behind, along with her. He knew it, somewhere in the back of his mind he fallen for her silence, her simple answers, bright laugh that lifted his spirits. "What will you do?" He finally asked long after she'd stopped singing.

"Wonder." She whispered, tears forming in her eyes. She didn't know why, she'd promised herself she wouldn't cry, wouldn't give into the realization. "I'll wonder what kind of great adventure you'll be having." She admitted, voice stronger than she felt. "Wonder if you'll find you're godson, get your revenge." She choked back the sobs. "I'm sure you will." She continued. This was the most she'd ever spoken to him. He eased off the bed, his heart aching. How could he have not thought of her, the only real sanity he had here. He didn't even know her name.

"Who are you?" He asked finally, poking his arm through the bars, trying to reach around the wall that separated them. It was only a physical barrier. Emotionally, they were already together. She finally let go of the sobs she'd been trying to suppress.

"I don't remember." She admitted, fingertips the only thing that could reach him. "It's been so long since I cared." The tears wracked her frail body as she cried, teardrops falling on her arm, burning the mark there. "I was nothing until you came. I'm still nothing." She stopped. "Your stories, your voice brought me back from a darkness I thought I would never escape."

He held the tears that threatened to fall. Not since that first time had he cried. He'd told himself he was stronger, had to be if he was going to get out. Now here he was, his lifeline crumbling and he couldn't stop it. "You have to remember." He urged, trying to play his usual arrogance. But he couldn't, it only came out in a hoarse whisper. "I've told you everything. I'm the worthless one, too caught up in myself to even bother to find out about you. We've been here for years upon years, an eternity in my mind and never once did you tell me anything."

"I can't." She sobbed. "There is nothing to tell, I was stupid and foolish and I ended up here. I deserve it. You don't." She pressed her fingertips against his. "You have to get out, nobody's ever done it. But you, you have no right to be here." Her tears slowed as she tried to convince him. "Save Harry, help him save the world." She urged. He had to do this. He had to. She would not stop him in any way.

"I can't leave you, I'll find a way to get you out with me." He began speaking quickly, urgency in his tone.

"No." It was a simple command. She stretched out hand to press her palm to his. "Only you can do it, I wouldn't make it." She reasoned. And he knew she was right. By her hands alone he could tell she was fading fast.

"I have to see you." He said after a long pause, his hand disappearing from hers. And the next thing she knew, a large black object was at her bars. She thought the Grim was here to take her. It slipped through and became the man she'd only seen once in their entire time together. When he came in, he'd been handsome with dignity filling his eyes. Now he was as hollow as she was. She fell into him, sobs overtaking her again. This was the man she'd fallen for, the one what would escape and bring a little light to the world that was slowly falling into darkness. His dark hair fell past his shoulders and his hands were rough and weak, but he held her in arms that felt as strong as iron. She finally felt warm again. The perpetual cold that plagued her slowly faded away.

Somehow he knew this was what she looked like. She haunted his dreams, and he knew her. Pale green eyes were hidden behind miles of reddish blonde locks. He knew they'd been curls once, but now they were matted and straggly. He didn't care. She was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. How could he leave her here? He wouldn't. He'd take a little more time, but she was reading his thoughts as she listened to his heartbeat. "You have to get out." She whispered, taking his face in her hands. "Tomorrow is your only window. You know it." She urged. He nodded. Why he did, he never knew, but somehow those eyes told him that it would be the only way.

"Sing for me." He let the tears fall now as he pressed his forehead to hers. She sang, a low sweet tune she thought she'd forgotten the words to. And old Celtic verse she could hardly remember the meaning of. She only remembered it was a love song of long ago. He pulled her in, leaning against the wall with her cradled against his chest. He'd never forget this, neither would she. "James had his Lily." Sirius murmured. "I'll have my Rose." He kissed the top of her head and clung to her as sleep overcame them in the darkness.

When she woke the next morning he was gone. She found herself curled up in her own bed and she smiled knowing he'd managed to free himself. His time to leave had come and gone. Silent as the wind, he'd gone. The happiest she'd even been was sitting there, wrapped in her blanket and his, wishing him all the luck in the world.

Fin.

I don't know where it came from, but here it is. Hope you enjoyed my little ficlet!

3 Ella


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